


Darling, Take My Hand

by howlsmovingiceskates



Series: Murder Husbands [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Can be read as a stand alone, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Denial, Depression, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gosh i love that tag so much, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I swear there's more fluff than there is angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Misunderstandings, Murder Husbands, Nobody Actually Dies, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Running Away, Separation Anxiety, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Technically?, Temporary Character Death, There's a lot of emotions in this, Top Victor Nikiforov, eating ass, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlsmovingiceskates/pseuds/howlsmovingiceskates
Summary: Yuuri,I pray that you will never see this, that we can retire and live a long life with a poodle named Makkachin. Yakov pulled me away from you to write this, said that now that we’re married I need to write a will, but I think I’d rather write this with you by my side. It’s incredibly boring not hearing you giggle and tell your stories. I was told I can’t be mushy, that this serves as an official document upon my ‘untimely death’ but, well Solnyshko, I don’t think I can write this without telling you how much I love you.Yuuri breaks.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Murder Husbands [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933315
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97





	Darling, Take My Hand

Yuuri looks at the clock, wondering why time is moving so damn slow. Despite Yuuri arguing with the directors, Viktor’s gone off on a solo mission, and now Yuuri is bored and alone, left to his own devices for the first time since Viktor bounded into his life. His days are spent taking care of himself and not letting Phichit pressure him to go to a club to let loose, get drunk, and forget about Viktor not being there. He doesn’t want to forget Viktor’s not with him, afraid of his mind spiraling into an uncontrollable mess. Paperwork follows him home on most days, because he can’t seem to concentrate very well while knowing Viktor’s away and he can’t get anything done when not surrounded by Viktor’s things. Anxiety eats at him, slowly consuming him as time passes and more days without his husband go by.

Viktor should be coming back today though, according to Yakov. Apparently they received a message from Viktor two weeks ago stating his expected time of arrival, and while Yuuri hates that they kept the information from him for so long, he can’t wait to see Viktor. He’s missed his husband. He wants nothing more than to pull him into his arms and take care of him, to cook their favorite meal and set up their favorite TV show. He’ll surely be tired when he comes back, but no matter. Yuuri will give him everything he needs. 

As the day draws to an end, Yuuri’s concern grows. He wasn’t allowed to know anything about Viktor’s mission, but he knows his husband is supposed to be back by now. Maybe he got caught up at the airport? Maybe he’s stuck in traffic? The most likely answer though, is that something has happened, and Yuuri is left with a gut feeling that something is horribly, horribly wrong.

* * *

A week has gone by since Viktor was supposed to come home, and as Yuuri starts to pack up for the day, Yakov comes up to him, a solemn look on his face. Yuuri’s stomach plummets as the older man places a white envelope with his name neatly written on it on his desk. Yuuri knows what this is. He’s written one just like it, but instead of being addressed to him, it’s addressed to Viktor.

“There was an explosion…” Yakov says gravely, “they found a lot of blood, Nikiforov’s and the enemies. Evidence points towards his body burning in the fire.”

Yuuri’s focus concentrates on that envelope with Viktor’s handwriting on it. This can’t be happening. It’s only been a week since Viktor was supposed to be back. It’s too soon to be getting this. He should never be getting this letter. He doesn’t want to see the will his husband wrote. He doesn’t want to hear what Yakov has to say.

“No,” Yuuri whispers, his eyes widening in horror as Yakov’s words settle in, “No, you’re wrong. Nikiforov doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not him. Viktor _Katsuki-Nikiforov_ is still alive.” The jacket in his hands slips out of his fingers and to the floor, but Yuuri does not notice. 

“Yuuri,” Yakov sighs, “it’s his blood. We had it analyzed. His clothes and other belongings are all burnt and in the evidence room if you want to see for yourself.”

“No!” Yuuri screams, forcibly batting away the hand Yakov tried to put on his shoulder, “It can’t be him!” He can feel the eyes of his coworkers turning on him, but he doesn’t care. He starts panting in harsh breaths, hyperventilating as he tries to tell the older man he’s wrong, “Vik-Viktor he wouldn’t- he promised- you’re _lying_ to me right now.” He accuses, gasping for air. He places his hand over his heart, the rapid beating in his chest quickly becoming too much for him. 

He crumbles to the ground, hidden from the view of his colleagues by his desk. He stares unseeingly at nothing as tears well up in his eyes. _No. It can’t be_. Viktor will walk into the building any second now. This is just a letter he sent ahead of time. He’s not dead. He’s on his way here now. Any second he’ll come up to Yuuri, wrap him up in his arms, and whisper to him that everything will be okay.

Viktor never comes. Instead, Yuuri is given false hope when Phichit and Chris come and wrap their arms around him. He pushes them away immediately, his stomach churning at the thought of someone besides Viktor touching him so intimately in his distress. He blindly reaches for the trash can he’s always kept by his desk and empties the contents of his stomach into the bin.

“Go away,” he manages to wheeze out, clutching onto the edges of the trash can hard enough that his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t want anyone near him, doesn’t want to have to deal with their sympathy and pitiful looks. 

They all tried to warn him about this when they married. They all said spies shouldn’t get attached to other spies, or anyone for that matter, but neither Viktor or Yuuri cared about what they said. They married, and they loved more than anyone could possibly begin to imagine. Yuuri gave himself to Viktor, and he will never regret their marriage. 

To his brief relief, no one tries to bother him again. They let him sit on the ground for as long as he needs to and lets him gather his things on his own. Everyone has left by the time he is able to pull himself off the ground, wobbly and unstable in every way. He only has the mind to grab his jacket, though it’s technically Viktor’s, his phone, and the will of his dead husband.

He shouldn’t drive, but he does anyway. He pulls over on multiple occasions, unable to see past the thick tears in his eyes. He narrowly misses rear ending people, and by the time he gets home, it’s late and dark and his parking is shit. He stumbles out of the car, staggering to the elevator and leaning heavily against its walls while he waits for it to take him to their floor. He barely makes it through the door before he collapses, harsh sobs wracking his body. He crawls on the floor towards their room, climbing up the bed and curling into a ball on Viktor’s side of the bed. He hugs the pillow close to his chest, hiding his face in the object. He’s cried on this pillow many times since Viktor left for his solo mission, but this is the first time Yuuri has sobbed uncontrollably, desperately wishing to wake up and find it was all a dream. Yuuri never imagined he’d never get to wake up in his husband’s arms again. He falls into a restless sleep, nightmares of how his husband died plaguing him every time he closes his eyes.

The days drag on to become one big blur. He hasn’t shown up to work since he last left it, hasn’t called in or bothered to let anyone know how he’s doing. He’s missed calls from his parents, from his sister, from his friends from Japan. They’re all clueless to Viktor’s fate, and Yuuri cannot pretend to be okay for them. He can’t listen to them ask questions about how Viktor’s business trip is going. 

He’s not sure what day it is when Phichit arrives with Seung-Gil. He’s hardly eaten anything in the days since learning of Viktor’s death, has barely slept and taken care of himself like he should. He’s become a shell of the man he once was, depression settling into his bonesWhen Phichit essentially breaks into his and Viktor’s apartment, Yuuri physically cannot fight his friend when he drags him out of the apartment. He’s too drained and exhausted to do much but stare at his friend and his boyfriend, wishing to be like them.

Phichit drives them to the cafe Yuuri and Viktor used to go to all the time. Yuuri zones out, too many memories of his husband in this place for him to bear. He’s force fed something that tastes like ash in his mouth, and a straw gets forced down his throat in between each bite of food.

It becomes a regular occurrence for someone to barge into their apartment and kidnap him. They force him to eat something, do something, but Yuuri knows nothing of it. He goes and comes home forgetting it all almost immediately. He simply shuts the door, trudges into his and Viktor’s room, changes into Viktor’s clothes, and goes to sleep.

They don’t hold a funeral or any kind of service for Viktor. A large part of why there’s nothing is because Viktor is a spy, and they can’t do anything but put up a memorial for him inside the office. A smaller reason why is because Yuuri doesn’t have the heart to do an empty casket burial, but also because this way he can pretend Viktor is still alive. 

He talks to him, when he’s alone and awake. He tells Viktor about his day, about how much he misses him and can’t wait for him to come back. There are times he’ll turn and talk to Viktor while their friends have him out, and they give each other a look before gently telling him Viktor’s not here. He dismisses them, going on to ask Viktor what they’re talking about.

He tells Viktor about how he hasn’t read his will yet, that he doesn’t want to see the words written on it. Viktor gently tells him he should read it, that it’ll help him feel better. So, after staring at the wretched envelope on his nightstand for a month, Yuuri readies himself to open Viktor’s will. These are the last words from his husband that he will ever get to have, and even if the piece of paper deepens his wounds, he has to read them. He doesn’t want to ignore it forever, and it’s best he does it now while he’s in the headspace to do so. He takes a deep breath, tenderly picking the envelope up and opening it with care.

He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a moment to collect himself. He slowly lets out a breath, opening his eyes and reading the letter. 

_Yuuri,_

_I pray that you will never see this, that we can retire and live a long life with a poodle named Makkachin. Yakov pulled me away from you to write this, said that now that we’re married I need to write a will, but I think I’d rather write this with you by my side. It’s incredibly boring not hearing you giggle and tell your stories. I was told I can’t be mushy, that this serves as an official document upon my ‘untimely death’ but, well Solnyshko, I don’t think I can write this without telling you how much I love you._

_Everything of mine is yours, but you already knew that. You became the owner of everything I have and everything I am the second I laid eyes on you. There is one thing I haven’t told you about though. I wanted to give it to you after we retired, because I didn’t want to risk losing it beforehand. Under your side of the bed, there’s a loose floorboard. Underneath it you’ll find a box, and in it there’s a small photo album, a locket and a ring._

_It was my mother’s. And before that my grandmother’s, and before that my great grandmother’s. It’s been in the family for a long time, meant only for the person it’s handed down to. I was the first only male child in our family for a long time, as you know, and because of that, my mother left me the box after she died. I’ve taken the pictures out of the locket, and put them in that photo album. It dates as far back as whenever cameras were invented. There might also be some drawings. I took the pictures out, because I replaced them with pictures of us. Even though you’re getting it earlier than I intended, I know you’ll take care of it._

_The ring, I hope, will be to your liking. Originally, it had a ruby in the middle of it, but I want to change it to a topaz, to match your birthstone. I hope that I’ll have done that when you get this, if not, it’s up to you to change it. If you do decide to get a topaz instead, I only ask that you keep the ruby._

_My Darling, I love you with all that I am, and I’ll continue to love you after my last breath. You consume me. When I’m not by you, I can’t think of anything but you. Perhaps that’s dangerous, but if it’s you that gives me strength. I never did have something that I wanted to come back to, until I met you. If it means protecting you and ensuring your safety, I will gladly give my life._

_My Love, I’m sorry for breaking my promise. Maybe it’s my fault for promising in the first place, when in our line of work promises should never be made, but I really did believe I’d be able to keep it. I love you, and I hope you’ll be able to move on. I may be gone, but by all the power in the universe, I will always be by your side. I just wish I could comfort you. At the very least, adopt a poodle like we’ve talked about to comfort you in my place._

_Yakov is telling me I’m taking way too long to write this, that since I only have you it shouldn’t be so hard, but Zolotse, it is hard. I can’t say goodbye to you. I won’t say goodbye to you. I think when I’m let out, I’ll go to you and hug you and never let you go, for surely if I always have you with me, you’ll never have to read this._

_I love you, my Yuuri. I love you when you’re pointing a gun at someone’s head. I love you when you’re cursing up a storm because you forgot to do some paperwork. I love you when you’re grumpy because the alarm went off sooner than you’d like. I love you when you stay up late playing video games and let me sleep on you even though it messes you up. I love you when you’re fast asleep on the couch and it takes five minutes just to wake you. I love you when you’re telling me off for not doing the dishes like I said I would. I love you when you’re underneath me and above me. I love you when you’re too tired to move. In everything you do, I love you. I love you, Yuuri._

_With all my love,_

_Your Vitya._

Yuuri breaks. Sobs tear their way out of his chest, ugly and broken. He crumples the paper on accident as he clutches it to his chest, gasping for air. He can’t breathe. He can’t see. He can’t do anything but let the tears flow. _He wants his husband back._

He lays paralyzed on their bed, trying to process that this is real, that his Viktor is gone. He can’t move, can’t do anything besides cry tears that will never dry up. He falls asleep with a migraine and covered in snot, tears still falling behind his closed eyelids.

When he wakes, he pulls himself together enough to find the box of heirlooms Viktor had told him about in his will. The floorboard is easy enough to find, but complicated for him to lift because of his trembling hands, but he gets it after a while. He brings out a small, ornate box. He cradles it to his chest, carefully crawling onto their bed where he opens the box to reveal its contents.

He takes out the locket first, a simple gold pendant and chain, and gingerly opens it to reveal two of their wedding photos. On the left side is a picture of the kiss that sealed them together, and on the right is a picture of them sitting together at a table, laughing because Yuuri wiped frosting along Viktor’s cheek. 

Yuuri reaches over to his nightstand, picking up Viktor’s wedding ring and threading it onto the chain of the locket. He picks up the ring out of the box next, carefully holding it between his fingers. It’s silver, with twelve diamonds surrounding the oval ruby gem to form a teardrop shape. Three diamonds sit on each side of the centerpiece, the band twisting around the diamond to give the a subtle teardrop shape as well. It seems Viktor never got around to replacing the gemstone, but Yuuri doesn’t mind. He puts it on the locket’s chain as well, bringing it up to clasp around his neck.

He gingerly picks up the small photo album Viktor left, flipping through the pages expecting to only see old family photos. As he reaches the end, he sees the final few pages are filled with snippets of their marriage. There’s some pictures in here that Yuuri never knew Viktor had taken. Things like them curled up on the couch, Yuuri fast asleep and drooling on Viktor’s chest. Viktor looks so happy and content...Yuuri flips the page. Things get a little more intimate and explicit in nature here. Yuuri posing naked for Viktor, Viktor doing the same. Some pictures catching the act of love in the making.

Yuuri closes the book, wheezing as he tries to get air in his lungs. It’s too much. Even in death, Viktor is a romantic, leaving memories of them everywhere. It’s almost like Viktor prepared for this, and Yuuri hates it. He hates how meticulous his husband is. He hates that he can’t complain to him about being so cheesy.

Time moves slowly, and Yuuri still hasn’t gone into work. His family texts him, begging him to talk to them and tell them what’s wrong. They all suspect he and Viktor got a divorce, and that he’s grieving so much he isn’t answering. He still sees his husband around, still expects to wake up in his arms, still thinks he’ll walk through that door alive.

Eventually, someone gets the bright idea to go clubbing. It’s a work activity, they tell him. Attendance is mandatory. Yuuri has no idea what happens. They give him drinks. He drinks none of it. Instead he chats animatedly with his husband about the time they both got a little drunk on a mission and ended up apprehending the suspect while half naked and all over each other. 

Somebody, Yuuri isn’t sure who, it’s all too blurry, comes up to him and drunkenly slaps him. They yell about how it’s been over three months already, that he needs to start getting over Viktor and move on. The illusion of his husband disappears in the blink of an eye, and Yuuri’s heart tears in two. He slides off the high bar stool, falling to his knees and hiding his face in his hands as he starts sobbing. 

He’s done with people trying to interfere with his life. He refuses to move on. He won’t forget his husband no matter how hard they try to get him to. 

He needs to hide away, to get away from the world and all those in it.

Yuuri decides it’s time to leave the apartment a week after the clubbing incident. He doesn’t want to be in this apartment any longer. Phichit and Seung-Gil and Chris come by way too often and ask him if he’s okay and force him to do things he doesn’t want to do. They all have their partners. They all rub their relationships in his face. Yakov and Celestino likely know how much he’s mourning, which is probably why their friends will not leave him alone. He’s tired of being surveilled, of being bothered so often he can’t properly grieve the loss of his husband. 

He dearly loves his friends, but he needs time by himself. If someone knocks on his door and forces him to go out to eat at the café he and Viktor used to frequent one more time, someone’s going to get a bullet in the head. 

First Phichit said they can remember Viktor by eating his favorite desserts, then Chris guilted Yuuri by saying Viktor wouldn’t want him to be sad. They tried to get him to adopt a puppy, since it was something he and Viktor wanted to do upon retirement, but Yuuri isn’t in the right state of mind to look after a dog. He can barely take care of himself as it is. 

He plans his escape from the world methodically. He packs a suitcase of the things he needs from the apartment, largely memories of Viktor and things of his that Yuuri could never abandon. Viktor’s old and tattered blue T-shirt, Viktor’s poodle plushie, Viktor’s favorite blanket, everything that will allow him to pretend Viktor is still around. He takes special care packing up all of Viktor’s things, not wanting to ruin everything. When he thinks he accidentally chipped Viktor’s coffee mug when putting it in and accidentally letting it slip out of his hand, he breaks down.

He sits on his knees, sobbing into his hands and apologizing to Viktor over and over while the ceramic cup sits in front of him. He didn’t mean to ruin it! He only wanted to bring it with him, but he can’t do anything right. He half expects Viktor to walk out of their room and hug him, telling him that it’s just a mug that can be replaced. But Viktor won’t walk out, and the mug is no longer something that can be replaced. He’s not sure how long he cries for, but when the tears finally dry, he takes a closer look at the mug and realizes it’s not broken, it just had something on it that made it look like it was. Yuuri cries again.

After taking some pills to help with the headache he developed from crying so much, he goes out and buys a bunch of groceries, largely things that are not perishable and have a long shelf life and can be frozen. Things like various meats, cans of soup and vegetables, crackers, etcetera. He buys extra toothpaste and other toiletries in case he runs out of those too. He also visits a variety of stores so as not to raise the employees suspicions. 

It’s dark out by the time he makes it back to their apartment. It works perfectly for his plan. He’ll pack up, get out into the mountains, crash the car (once safely removing all his supplies and tying them up in a tree to retrieve later that is). He moves fast, certain that people are already on their way over to see what the fuck he is up to. He takes as much as he can before taking off into the night.

Deep in the mountains, Yuuri stops the car and sets about tying everything to a tree. When he’s satisfied no wild animals will do much with it, he rigs the car to speed off the side of a cliff. It’s a shame to get rid of that car, but they have one at the cabin that has no trackers throughout it that he can use instead. He walks on foot towards the direction of the cabin, marking his way so he can find the food and supplies after he gets some rest.

He gets to the cabin when the sun is starting to come up, and he takes a short rest before getting in the secret car and fetching his supplies. 

They bought this cabin as a secret place for them. They made sure to keep their names off the records, to keep the place off the maps. No one will find him here, in their private little sanctuary. It’s perfect for mourning.

He unpacks everything, combining the new stuff with what is already there. Combing through the closet, Yuuri finds his favorite T-shirt that he thought he lost, but turns out he just left here. He also finds a bunch of Viktor’s clothes and little trinkets they’ve collected and forgotten about. 

It hurts, being here without Viktor. He spends his days in bed, only getting up when he feels it’s absolutely necessary. He eats a small snack every now and then, just enough to keep him alive. He wishes he could say the pain of being hungry is the worst thing he’s felt, but he’s had worse even before Viktor died.

On the sixth day, a thunderstorm hits and rages on all day. Yuuri decides to start a fire, moving his place of rest from their bed and to the couch. It’s dark throughout the small living room, but the fire provides warmth and light. Yuuri’s eyes catch the picture frames on the mantel above the fireplace and his breath hitches.

He stares at the pictures, tentatively reaching out to touch the one in the middle. It’s from their wedding day. In it, they're holding onto each other, foreheads touching and smiles meant only for them on their faces. Yuuri remembers that moment. He had forgotten that they weren’t alone, that people were watching.

He takes the picture in his hands, his vision blurring as he stares at the precious memory. He falls to his knees in front of the fire, clutching the frame to his chest as sobs tear their way out of his chest. He can’t stand being alone anymore. He wants his husband back. He wants Viktor to walk through that door and hold him. He wants to hear Viktor admonish him for slacking off in work. More than anything, he wants to go back in time and tell Viktor to decline the mission, to convince Yakov someone else can do it instead.

He screams in agony, the picture falling from his hands as he beats his chest with his fist. It hurts so _fucking_ much. He still cannot accept this as their fate. Viktor wouldn’t have left him like he did. He promised he’d be back, that it was a short assignment and no different from the missions he did while working solo. 

His wails drown out the crashes of thunder and crackling of the fireplace. He bends so that his forehead touches the ground and his knees are tucked under him. One hand bunches his shirt together over his heart while the other hits the ground. 

Yuuri has felt a lot of different kinds of pain. He’s been stabbed with a dull knife, a dozen shards of glass, the end of a hair comb and many more things. He’s been shot at with bullets of varying sizes: a 9mil, a .45 caliber, 10mil, etc. Each time at different distances and questionable exit wounds. He’s endured torture, most recently when he was kidnapped three years ago when he very nearly died. None of that compares to the torment he’s in now. 

Faceless and cruel, Viktor’s murderer ripped Yuuri’s heart out of his chest and stomped on it, shattering it completely. Only a shell of the man he was is left, barely able to breathe and care for himself. He’s glad he dropped off the face of the earth, because now he can grieve in peace without Phichit or Celestino or Chris or anyone checking up on him. 

A knock on the door startles him out of his misery. There’s no way anyone knows of this place. It’s too deep into the forest for anyone to find, and Yuuri knows for a fact there are no tracking devices or records of him and Viktor buying and building it. Briefly, _what if…_ crosses his mind before he squashes the thought down. He can’t get his hopes up now.

He tries to ignore it, but the _knock, knock, knock_ resounds throughout the house, louder than the thunder, louder than the fire. Yuuri forces himself to move, his limbs heavy and dragging. He doesn’t bother grabbing his gun, deciding that if someone’s found him out here, they’ve earned whatever they do.

He slaps his hand onto the doorknob, slowly unlocking the heavy door. He can barely keep his eyes open, exhaustion from his never ending tears finally catching up to him. He leans against the doorway for support as the world spins under him. Lightning flashes and thunder crashes, causing him to flinch. Has it always been this loud? 

“Yuuri,” he hears someone breathe. 

He opens his eyes enough to see a taller figure standing in front of him. His clothes are tattered and soaked through, barely hanging onto his body. Cuts and bruises scatter along his skin, making for a less than pretty sight. He’s panting, heavy and uneven. He reaches out to Yuuri, but Yuuri steps back, trembling and shaking his head.

“I can’t-” He coughs, pain surging through his body as he tries to talk past his scratchy voice, “I- you...you can’t- b-but you’re…” He shakes his head, retreating into the house. This can’t be. Is he so desperate that he’s imagining this intruder to be Viktor? Has he finally completely lost his mind?

The hand falls limp to its owner’s side as piercing blue eyes stare at him in confusion and heartbreak. The man steps into the cabin, shutting the door carefully. 

“Get out!” Yuuri shrieks, visibly shaken. He stumbles on his feet and falls to the ground, staring in horror.

“Yuuri,” The Viktor hallucination repeats again, his voice straining, “Yuuri please, it’s me.” 

Yuuri shakes his head, curling up on the ground and grasping at his hair, “You can’t be!” he wails, tears once again springing to his eyes, “You’re just an hallucination! He’s dead!” Yuuri voices his husband’s fate for the first time and breaks down sobbing. The weight of the truth settles over him, crushing him until he can’t breathe. “No! Don’t touch me!” He backs away from the approaching Viktor, shakily whispering “Last time you tried, you disappeared.”

“Solnyshko, please,” Viktor pleas, “I promise I won’t disappear.” He’s crying. Yuuri’s mind has never shown him a crying Viktor before. He’s always been so happy, so loving. The change in pace causes Yuuri to pause, to try and make sense of it all. It gives Viktor an opening to reach out to him, to cup his face in his hands and wipe away Yuuri’s tears.

This has never happened before. Viktor’s never been able to touch, only talk. Yuuri hiccups, staring into deep blue eyes, searching for the truth, “Vitya?” He whispers, too scared to hope.

Viktor nods quickly, smiling a watery smile, “Yes Zvezda, it’s me. I’m here.”

Yuuri’s body moves before he can process what’s going on. His arms circle around Viktor’s neck, his lips meeting his husband’s for the first time in months. It’s a very wet and salty and cold kiss, but it’s a kiss and the only reason Yuuri pulls away from those brilliant lips is because he’s crying too hard. 

Strong arms scoop him up and cradle him into a firm chest. The dam breaks inside him, and Yuuri starts shouting “You were dead! You broke your promise and you left me!” He hits Viktor’s chest, though he doesn’t have the strength to make it hurt, “You left me alone! You told me to get a dog and to move on! I can’t move on! Why did you leave me?”

Viktor holds him the entire time he cries, taking each punch to the chest with no complaint. Yuuri prolongs it as much as he can, if only because he’s sure that the illusion will break the moment he stops. His clothes are damp, since Viktor is holding him and hasn’t had the chance to get out of his rain soaked clothes. “Yuuri, darling, please look at me,” Viktor says, his voice breaking.

“I thought you were dead,” Yuuri says weakly.

“I’m not, My Love. I’m right here. I promise.”

“What good are your promises?”

“Yuuri, _please_.”

Yuuri chances a look at him, meeting those blue eyes and quickly looking away. He stares at the tip of Viktor’s nose, not daring to look anywhere else. 

“Do you remember when we got married and decided to change our answers when asked to prove ourselves?” Viktor asks, his hand reaching up to cup Yuuri’s cheek. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispers, leaning into that hand he’s been longing for.

“On our wedding night, we never did actually have sex like everyone thinks,” Viktor murmurs, “we cuddled on the couch and watched baking shows. We made fun of, questioned, and complimented the bakers’ designs, especially when one had a Shrek look-alike, and then we danced in the middle of the living room for over an hour. The next night however, we did have marathon sex.” Viktor smiles at the memory.

“They told me you died in an explosion,” Yuuri says meekly.

“I wasn’t there when the bomb went off,” Viktor starts softly, “I was shot, and bleeding, but I got away. When I got to the rendezvous point, no one was there to pick me up. I had to find my own way back”

“They abandoned you,” Yuuri whispers, eyes wide, “they came to me a week after the day you were due back and said you died.”

Viktor shakes his head, tears steadily streaming down his face, “I was afraid of that. I was on my way to the apartment when I heard the radio talk about a car crash in the middle of the mountains, and then I knew you’d be here.”

Yuuri nods, “Where were you shot? Are you better now?” He looks over Viktor as best he can, but doesn’t see any injuries.

Viktor shifts a little, lifting his shirt to reveal two healing bullet wounds in his torso. Yuuri gingerly reaches out to touch them as Viktor starts explaining what happened, “I thought I was going to die, but then I thought about you, and how I needed to get back to you. I couldn’t die over a thousand miles away from you and not tell you I love you one more time.”

“Oh Vitenka,” Yuuri looks at him sadly, “thank you. Thank you for coming back to me.” Yuuri stands, pulling Viktor with him, “I’ll take care of you now.”

He brings Viktor into the bathroom, where he starts the shower and strips them both down till their left in nothing. Yuuri takes off his ring and necklace, gently setting them down on the counter. Viktor watches, his gaze settling on the locket, “you found the box.”

Yuuri nods, “In your will, you told me about it.”

“I did,” Viktor confirms, “do you like them?”

“Vitya, I love them,” Yuuri says, tugging Viktor into the shower as soon as the water is warm enough. He hates seeing his husband shivering cold. Yuuri washes Viktor, and Viktor washes Yuuri. Yuuri is slow and meticulous as he cleans his husband, wanting to make sure none of his cuts get infected. He also just wants to touch, because he _can_. He can touch Viktor, and he won’t disappear like the Viktor of his imagination always did.

They don’t talk much while in the shower, just letting the water run off their bodies as they hold each other. The storm still rages on outside, but Yuuri can hardly care about that. His husband is holding him again. He’s not dead. It was a mistake on the Y&C Organization, one Yuuri isn’t sure he can forgive.

Tears build up behind his eyes again, and he freely lets them spill, crying into Viktor’s shoulder until the water starts running cold and they’re forced to get out. They dry, walking hand in hand into their room, where Yuuri grabs a set of clothes for them both. He dresses in Viktor’s clothes, much like he has these past few months. He quickly runs into the bathroom, gathering his ring and necklace before coming back out to his husband.

“I have your ring,” Yuuri tells him, taking the golden band off the chain, “I kept it safe for you.”

Viktor smiles, holding out his right hand, “Put it on for me?”

“Of course,” Yuuri swallows back more tears, sliding the wedding band back where it belongs. “Will you put mine on? And the necklace?”

“Yes,” Viktor breathes, taking the pieces of jewelry from Yuuri and securing them on his person. “I love you, Yuuri.”

“I love you too,” He smiles, leaning into his husband, “Are you hungry?” Yuuri asks, “I’ve only been here for a few days. The vegetables are still good if you want to eat something with those.”

“Do we have everything for Katsudon?” 

“Yes.”

“Let’s make that.”

Yuuri takes Viktor’s hand in his, placing a kiss on his knuckles as they walk out to the kitchen. Together they make dinner, bumping hips and shoulders playfully. Yuuri’s heart clenches because he’s missed this so much. Halfway through, he stops what he’s doing and clutches the counter. His head hangs low and his shoulders shake, and it’s only when Viktor comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him that Yuuri starts to calm.

“I’m okay,” Yuuri whispers, turning in Viktor’s arms.

“No,” Viktor shakes his head, “you’re not okay.”

“I will be though,” Yuuri promises, “because you’re here.”

Viktor kisses him, slow and sweet, and if not for the sizzling of the pans, Yuuri would’ve kissed him until he couldn’t any longer. Viktor pulls back, promises of being _right here_ falling from his lips. 

They eat while sitting on the couch, curled up and feeding each other from their bowls. The fire crackles in front of them, illuminating their faces and allowing Yuuri to openly stare at his husband. He can’t believe Viktor is here. He can’t believe he’s leaning against Viktor’s side and eating Katsudon with him. Is he dead too?

When all that’s left is a few stray pieces of rice left in their bowls, Yuuri climbs onto Viktor’s lap and stares into the fire. Viktor’s arms wrap securely around him, holding him tight.

“I came here because they kept forcing me to do things,” Yuuri tells Viktor, closing his eyes. Viktor hums, waiting for Yuuri to continue, “I know they were looking out for me, but they forced me to go to a club, kept trying to make me forget you because that’d make me feel better, told me to move on. But they don’t understand what it’s like. They’re all happily in relationships, flaunting their happiness around with no care in the world. The only person I could stand to talk to in the end was Georgi, because he knows what it’s like to lose someone in this field, and you know how Georgi gets when Anya is brought up. He doesn’t talk about anything else and won’t listen to you try to tell him you understand and know what it’s like to lose the person you love the most to a dangerous mission you knew nothing about.”

“Oh Yuuri, I am so, so sorry,” Viktor says, planning to continue but Yuuri cuts him off.

“I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t do anything but cry and cry and _cry_. I’m still afraid that this is a dream.”

“I was wondering why you looked so gaunt. You’ve lost weight,” Viktor comments, running his hand through Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri grunts, “You’re no better.”

“No, I suppose I’m not,” Viktor agrees, “but you don’t have to worry about that any longer. I’m here, and no one but you knows that I am. You can have me for as long as you want.”

Yuuri sits up a little and turns to look at Viktor, “You mean headquarters doesn’t know you’re alive?”

“Nope,” Viktor shakes his head, “I had to get to you first. They can keep thinking I’m dead, but you...I needed you to know that I’m not dead. I needed to know how you were.”

Yuuri kisses Viktor, wondering if this will be when he wakes up. He doesn’t, so he presses more firmly into the kiss. Viktor’s lips are unusually chapped, but Yuuri doesn’t care, because those lips are kissing him once more. He pulls away because of a yawn then rests his head on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Viktor whispers, “let’s get to bed.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll carry you.”

“Okay.”

Viktor lifts him and carries him to bed. Yuuri curls up next to his husband, resting his head on his chest and revelling in the sound and feel of a beating heart under his ear. He falls asleep almost immediately.

When Yuuri wakes, it’s to Viktor clutching at him like an octopus. The weight of Viktor’s body above him reassures him that last night was not a dream, that Viktor is here and sleeping next to him. Yuuri wonders if he’ll ever not cry now, if he’ll get used to having Viktor back, but for now he freely welcomes the tears spilling down his face. Viktor is alive. He’s here and he’s snoring lightly and resting nearly all his weight on Yuuri. Their limbs are so tangled Yuuri can’t tell who’s who. 

Viktor stirs in his sleep, sitting up a little to look at Yuuri with a slight frown on his face. “What’s wrong, Solnyshko?” he asks, wiping at Yuuri’s tears.

“I’m just so happy last night wasn’t a dream.” Yuuri answers, leaning into his husband’s touch.

“No, it wasn’t a dream,” Viktor agrees, kissing between Yuuri’s eyebrows, “Are you feeling up to making breakfast?”

“In a little bit. I want to lay in bed with you for a little while longer,” Yuuri reaches up and pushes Viktor’s hair out of his face, not even bothering to try and fix his bedhead.

“Okay,” Viktor settles down, placing his head on Yuuri’s chest and closing his eyes.

Yuuri isn’t sure how long they stay there. His tears have dried and the birds chirp outside, singing their songs now that the storm has passed. The sun tries to peek into their room between the trees and curtains, and Yuuri admires the serenity the morning brings.

Eventually, they do get up for breakfast. It’s a simple meal this time. Viktor makes the eggs because Yuuri can never get them cooked to perfection like his husband can. Yuuri fixes the tea and toasts the bread. They eat standing at the counter, stealing touches in between bites. 

Yuuri gazes at his husband, standing in the kitchen and sipping tea. For the first time in months he feels something more than pain and depression. He’s elated to have Viktor back, pure joy bubbling through his body. He needs his husband. Setting his own tea cup down on the counter, he rushes into Viktor, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Viktor drops the mug to the floor, and it breaks, but Yuuri doesn’t care. It’s replaceable. Viktor is not. He leans up and presses his lips to his husband’s, kissing him passionately for the first time since they’ve reunited. Viktor reciprocates, his hands flying up to Yuuri’s face as he pushes him into the counter.

Yuuri can’t believe it. His husband is here, miraculously back from the dead, from the mission their superiors wouldn’t let them go on together. He’s here and he’s kissing Yuuri and it feels so good. Maybe this is a dream, maybe he’s finally gone totally insane, but Viktor’s grip on his hips and the glide of his lips tell him otherwise. He clutches Viktor’s back, stumbling towards their bedroom. They miss the door by a foot, but it doesn’t deter them. Viktor presses Yuuri into the wall, deepening the kiss as his hands slide under Yuuri’s shirt.

Yuuri moans, breaking the kiss only to throw his shirt off his body. There’s too much fabric separating them. Yuuri’s hands slide under Viktor’s shirt, clawing at his back and once more breaking the kiss to take Viktor’s shirt off. Viktor latches his mouth onto Yuuri’s neck, sucking bruising marks into his skin and causing his knees to go weak as he trembles. He unashamedly pushes his body into his husband, arching his back and grinding into his leg in search for friction.

Viktor separates from Yuuri for a moment, staring into his eyes with wonder and care. He stretches to grasp Yuuri’s hand and brings it to his lips. He sucks kisses against the tips of his fingers. “I’m so sorry Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs, “I won’t leave you like that again, I promise.”

Yuuri swallows around the lump in his throat, words failing to come out of his mouth as emotions burn inside him. He’s aroused, elated, and tender hearted because Viktor is so close to him now. He trails his hand down from Viktor’s shoulder to his hip and grasps it tightly, to make sure they are both flushed together. “I thought you were dead,” Yuuri stutters out as he stares back into Viktor clearing eyes, the memories of his pain so fresh in his mind, “I thought- I thought I’d never see you again.” The more he stares into the blue of his husband’s eyes, the more his head clears, as if Viktor is his cup of fresh water.

“I know, but I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere,” Viktor reassures as he trails a hand to Yuuri’s behind to grasp it. He licks his lips and stares down to Yuuri’s lips. “Can I take you to bed?”

Near paralyzed with desire and anticipation, Yuuri lets himself be moved to their bedroom, eager to get in bed with his husband. Viktor kisses him, deep and desperate as they stumble through the doorway to get into their bedroom.

Viktor guides him into the room, not stopping until the back of Yuuri’s knees hits the side of the bed. Yuuri shuffles a bit, struggling to lower himself to the bed without breaking the kiss. The mattress dips beneath his weight and groans as he sits in front of Viktor “Should I undress?”

“Not just yet,” Viktor says as he gently pushes on Yuuri's chest to have him lay down.

Yuuri stretches out arching his back and stretches his arms out above his head. Yuuri hears the blood rushing beneath his own skin. A spark inside him begins to glow brighter from the embers of his emotions, “I want you in between my thighs,” Yuuri's voice is heavy and powerful, “Now.”

Warmth seeps through Viktor's sweatpants as he settles down in between Yuuri’s legs. His hands bunch into tight fists at the sides of Yuuri's waist as he slowly puts his weight onto Yuuri, trying to take this as slow as possible, wanting this moment between them to last longer.

“Will you touch me?” Yuuri sounds just shy of begging. When Viktor tentatively presses his palms against Yuuri’s lower back, he lets out a deep groan. He’s silent for a long, dragging moment before letting his voice out again, “Please Vitya.”

Viktor knew they’d get to this at some point after he walked through the door, but hearing the words spoken makes his dick twitch between his legs and thicken so quickly it sends his head spinning. “Yes,” he breathes out, shuddering. “Oh, I just want all of you darling.”

Viktors’s hands trailed down to skim across the swell of Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri closes his eyes as the sensation of his husband’s hands on him warms him to his core. He wishes the clothes on his body would liquify away from his skin so they can be closer without the hassle of having to separate for even a second. 

“I could build a fire and watch it bloom gold against your skin,” Viktor whispers, waxing poetic, “I could press you up against the wall while your hands scrabble against the smooth surface, seeking something to hold onto. I could put you down on the floor and watch you fall apart against the hard stone below, make your knees red and raw with memories for days to come.”

“You tease me, my love,” Yuuri gasps, “If you can’t decide, let me?”

“Of course, Zvezda.”

“Kneel on the bench at the end of the bed for me,” he requests.

Viktor moves into position as Yuuri props himself up on elbows and knees near the foot of the bed. He arches his back and juts his ass out, spreading his thighs wide enough for Viktor to see his hard cock leaking through the front of Yuuri’s sweatpants. Viktor's mouth salivates as he watches Yuuri shimmy down his pants and makes a noticeable discovery that Yuuri went commando after their shower last night.

“You’re going to be wonderful to me, love,” Yuuri says, the bed muffling his voice. “I can’t wait to feel you in me again. It’s been too long.”

Warmth dapples Viktor’s face as he grips Yuuris’s cheeks and spreads them apart. He presses an open mouth kiss to the base of Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri’s breath catches in his lungs at the first tentative drag of Viktor’s tongue across his hole. He lets out a loud moan, whispering encouragements to Viktor as he licks on.

Light drags of the tip of Viktor’s tongue grow to ravenous lapping at Yuuri’s entrance in no time at all. The way Yuuri moans and wriths and whispers praise is beyond intoxicating. Viktor can feel the ring of muscle begin to open up beneath the roll of his tongue. He sucks kisses against Yuuri’s rim as Yuuri’s back arches even further still, his body pressing into the heat pouring from Viktor’s mouth.

“Could you come like this?” Viktor pulls back, panting, the throb between his legs nearing unbearable, the strain against his zipper riding the line between pleasure and pain. He knows the answer before Yuuri squeezes the words out. 

“Yes,” he says, “I could. But I would prefer not to. Perhaps another time.”

Viktor wordlessly dives back in and licks and sucks and rolls his tongue until Yuuri’s entrance begins to open up to his intrusive mouth. The sounds that fill the room are obscene and flushes Yuuri’s skin with fevered heat. The wet flicker of Viktor’s prodding tongue causes Yuuri’s deep, rumbling moans to grow louder and more desperate the more he works. The fervent slurping of Viktor’s eager lips melts Yuuri, and Viktor can’t help the little whimpers being pulled up from his own throat as the seconds drip away.

“Your fingers,” Yuuri drawls out, equally commanding and begging, “please.” 

Viktor quickly stretches to grab the bottle that he knows has been left in the nightstand next to the bed, popping the cap on the lube and drizzling it across Yuuri’s hole. He swirls two fingers against the slickness of Yuuri’s entrance and presses in, fearing for a moment it was too much all at once, moaning in relief as Yuuri lets out a strangled moan as his body opens to the intrusion with an easy glide. Viktor’s fingers disappear to the first knuckles and then the second.

“More,” Yuuri moans, desperately fucking himself back onto Viktor’s fingers when he tries to retreat.

Viktor lets his hand be used, watching in fascination as Yuuri splits himself open on the slick digits buried to the hilt. He can’t think, can barely breathe, as he slides a third finger in and watches Yuuri’s body eagerly take it.

Viktor’s fingers suddenly slide free as Yuuri pulls away and maneuvers his body onto the center of the bed. “Come to me, Viktor,” Yuuri purrs, laying on his back and spreading his thighs wide. He needs to see Viktor’s face for this.

Viktor bites his lips to keep from crying out and cumming in his pants to what sees before him. He shoves his sweatpants down around his thighs, too impatient to take them off completely. He positions himself over Yuuri on the bed and slicks himself with lube. He gives himself one firm, lazy stroke, his cock head red and swollen as he drags it across Yuuri’s slippery, open hole.

“Fuck,” Viktor squeezes his eyes shut and grips Yuuri’s hips bruisingly tight as Yuuri pushes himself back onto Viktor’s cock. The heat of Yuuri’s body swallows him whole. Viktor can’t bear to move for fear of coming that very second.

Yuuri takes the reins, spearing himself fast onto Viktor’s throbbing cock. “Please go, please,” he cries between gritted teeth, trying his best to hold on. “I need you. Please, Vitya.”

Viktor nearly topples over as he pulls his hands away, gripping onto Yuuri hips as he slowly thrusts back and forth. Yuuri sobs shamelessly as they build a rhythm together, the filthy sounds of slick, slapping skin echoing through the room. He didn’t think he’d ever get to experience this again. He wants more, wants to take all of Viktor and never let him go.

“My beautiful husband,” Viktor groans, his body stilling. He’s buried so deep he can no longer discern where his own body began. He reaches up and wipes at Yuuri’s tears, “Oh I have missed you. Are you okay?” 

Yuuri can hear the concern in Viktor’s voice, so he reaches up and wraps his arms around his neck. “I feel like I’m in fucking heaven. You’re here, and I’ve never felt better,” Yuuri sighs, whimpering at the loss of motion. His balls draw tight between his legs. “I’m so close, Vitya.”

“Don’t hold back. Come for me, my love.” Viktor quickly says, giving a single, shallow thrust as he balances himself on his elbows.

Yuuri pulls him down, kissing him passionately, whining as he tries to encourage Viktor to move again. Viktor’s tongue meets his, and he moans, loud and unashamed. Tears spill down behind his eyelids, the sensation of making love with his husband so familiar yet so foreign. It’s been months...he needs Viktor like he needs air. He grips Viktor’s hair as hard as he can, wrapping his legs around his husband’s waist, trying to meld their bodies into one.

Viktor cradles Yuuri’s head between his forearms, his fingers trembling as he tries to pet Yuuri’s hair. “I want you to come, too,” Yuuri breaks the kiss to say as Viktor finally begins to thrust again. “Come for me, darling. Please. I need to feel it.”

Viktor kisses him again, moaning into his mouth as he pants, his pace speeding up. It’s so much. Yuuri’s chest is going to burst from all the emotions and sensations. He cries out as Viktor goes harder, hitting him exactly where he needs it. He soon becomes a whimpering mess, imploring Viktor to go harder still.

Soon, Yuuri keens, long and deep, as the shared well of pleasure and agony spills out into the air. A half dozen erratic snaps of his hips later and Viktor could feel himself crumbling apart. His orgasm washes over him in deep, pulsing waves that never seem to end. He falls down against Yuuri's chest and sucks a bruise into the skin of his neck. His hips falter and twitch, the swell of his release stretching on and on.

Through the ringing in his ears Viktor can hear Yuuri following him into the deep. His body wracks with sobs as he comes, cock untouched, all over their bodies. 

Drained and boneless, they collapse into a heap of laboring breaths and tangled limbs, melting and ebbing together.

“ _I love you,_ ” Viktor slurs. He nuzzles into Yuuri’s back, the undertow of contentment dragging him below.

Yuuri mumbles something about activities for the day, and Viktor responds by pulling him near. In that moment, Yuuri is certain, the warmth of their shared embrace is all the sustenance he needs to see him through. 

Yuuri almost falls asleep, but then he feels Viktor move to slide out of bed. He cracks his eyes open, whining and trying to pull Viktor back to him, feeling tears prickle in his eyes. Viktor stands, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, “I’ll be right back, my Love. I promise,” he reassures, brushing Yuuri’s hair off his forehead.

“You said that last time…” Yuuri whimpers, fear and uncertainty clinging to him.

Viktor sits on the edge of the bed, sadness filling his expression. Yuuri stares at him, willing him to not disappear, because if this had all been a hyper realistic dream...it would surely break him to irreparable pieces. “I’m just going to get a rag to clean us off,” Viktor says softly, cupping Yuuri’s cheek, “I’m not leaving.”

“You promise?” Yuuri’s voice waivers, anxiety clutching his heart.

“I promise,” Viktor nods, leaning down and kissing Yuuri’s lips.

He gets up then, walking towards the ensuite. Yuuri curls in on himself, repeating Viktor’s words to himself. He’ll be back. He promised. He’s just getting a rag. It’s okay. He’ll be back. Yuuri’s body shakes as his tears spill over. How many nights has he spent reassuring himself like that? How many nights has he spent curled around Viktor’s pillow, crying because he’s gone?

“Yuuri?” The bed dips as Yuuri’s ears fill with the most angelic voice, “Solnyshko, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Yuuri looks up to see Viktor above him, wet rag in hand. He’s here. He’s okay. “Vitya,” Yuuri whispers, fighting the lump in his throat.

“I’m here,” Viktor repeats, threading his fingers through Yuuri’s hair as if to prove his point, “We're okay.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything as Viktor gently uncurls his body and wipes the drying cum off his body. The rag is warm, but Viktor’s touch is warmer. When he’s all wiped off, Viktor cleans himself before tossing the rag off to the side and taking Yuuri in his arms. Yuuri mindlessly traces the new scars his husband’s body bears, using that as a way to calm himself down. 

Viktor holds him, whispering words of love and comfort, promising that they’ll never have to do a solo mission again. Yuuri clings to his husband, giving up on tracing the scars in favor of being as close as physically possible. His nails dig into Viktor’s skin, slightly clawing as he tries to satisfy his needs of being close. He falls asleep like that, wrapped around his husband and thanking the stars he’s able to do so. 

They spend the next two weeks wrapped up in each other. Their bodies are littered in love marks, both old and new. Yuuri’s eaten more than he has in the last few months, and is proud to say he’s looking healthier and healthier by the day. Viktor is doing better too, since he’s no longer in extreme survival mode. Being away from the world has given them the time they need to heal.

Since their actual car is totaled somewhere in the mountains, they use the car they’ve kept secret from the world to pack up and go home. Viktor insists on driving, claiming that taking a long drive with Yuuri is something he longed to do while he was travelling through the country. Yuuri lets him indulge in the fantasy, content to sit in the passenger’s seat and stare the entire four hours back into the city. 

They stay hidden away in their apartment for another couple of days, reacquainting themselves with the space. No one comes to bother them, likely realizing Yuuri had previously ran away, but given all the surveillance this place has, they don’t want to risk someone showing up unexpectedly.

Yuuri dresses Viktor in his black suit, paying careful attention to the details. He slowly ties his husband’s tie, only to use the accessory to pull him down into a kiss. Viktor’s hands settle on his waist, pulling him in closer. Their tongues meet, and Viktor pushes Yuuri against the wall, pinning him there with his body.

Yuuri moans, his hands going to Viktor’s hair and thoroughly messing it up. Viktor’s hands slide under his button up, massaging the skin and drawing light patterns on it. Viktor pulls away panting, lifting Yuuri up. Yuuri’s legs go around his waist as Viktor’s hands support him from the bottom. 

“Ready?” Viktor asks, breathless.

Yuuri nods, bringing their lips together again. Viktor carries him out of their room and outside their apartment, not once breaking the kiss. He holds Yuuri against the door to their apartment as he locks it, continuing on to the elevator. Once inside, Yuuri slides his legs down from around his husband, this time being the one to take control as he pushes Viktor against the elevator wall.

Viktor groans, his hands groping Yuuri’s body, touching everywhere he can. Yuuri steps between his husband’s legs, grinding their hips together. He moans when Viktor’s hands dip into his pants pockets, squeezing his ass. He pulls off Viktor’s lips to trail his mouth along his jaw and neck, sucking harshly on the skin.

The elevator dings far too soon for Yuuri’s liking, and they stumble out together into the parking garage. One second he’s pressing Viktor into the hood of the car, and the next he’s the one being pressed against the hood, but he doesn’t complain. His only complaint he has is they have to break this up, or the chances of their friends coming to visit drastically increase.

Yuuri pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against Viktor’s. “Let’s get going,” He whispers, “the sooner we take care of this, the sooner we can come back and finish what we started.”

Viktor nods, pecking Yuuri’s lips one more time before disentangling from Yuuri and opening the passenger door for him. Yuuri climbs in, grinning at his husband as he comes around to get in the driver's seat. He takes Yuuri’s hand in his, starting the car and driving off.

Yuuri can feel the stares of their colleagues as they walk in the doors to headquarters. Most of them look like they’ve seen a ghost, and Yuuri supposes they have. He puts his arm through Viktor’s, walking by his side as they go towards Yakov’s office. Phichit, for once, has nothing to say as he watches them walk by, his phone in hand and clearly taking pictures or videotaping or something.

“What is it?” Yakov’s gruff voice sounds through the door after their knocking.

Viktor and Yuuri share a look, nodding before pushing the door open together. Yakov shoots from his chair, eyes impossibly wide as he takes in the sight in front of him. “Nikiforov!” He exclaims, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

“Katsuki-Nikiforov,” Viktor corrects, sighing and closing the door behind him, “really Yakov, it’s been five years since we married.”

“B-but you were- we thought-”

“Yes, you _thought_ ,” Viktor emphasizes the word, “you wouldn’t have had to think if you actually tried to find out what happened.”

Viktor is bitter, Yuuri knows he is, and Yuuri is too. He’s livid that their carelessness led to months in agony when that didn’t have to be the case. They’ve since talked about retiring, but since they’re both still caught up in this world, they have to stay. At least from now on, their missions will strictly be with each other or not at all.

Yakov tries to kick Yuuri out, but the thought of leaving Viktor here, alone with the people who just accepted his death like he was just anyone, sends him spiraling. Yakov sees firsthand the kind of trauma this experience has left Yuuri with, and while it was unintentional, it certainly helped solidify their case. 

“Viktor!” Cheers surround them as they walk out of Yakov’s office. Viktor debriefed him on what happened, with Yuuri sitting on his lap with his head tucked under his chin the entire time. They’re ready to go home and take a well deserved paid vacation.

“You’re alive!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“What happened?”

They get bombarded by their friends, all eager to know what happened. Yuuri takes a protective step in front of Viktor, unwilling to share him right now. Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri, chuckling to himself. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time!” Phichit pulls up a chair, clearly eager to get all the gossip firsthand.

“Ah, but I don’t.” Viktor apologizes, “I’m on leave now.”

“But-” Phichit interjects just as Chris says, “I bet.”

Chris eyes the couple up and down, paying particular attention to their necks. Yuuri has the decency to blush while Viktor just looks proud of himself. Phichit moves to say something about the hickies, but Seung-Gil nudges him and talks instead, “How long have you been back?”

“Roughly two weeks.”

“Yuuri did you know he was coming back? Is that why you disappeared?” Phichit asks.

Yuuri has started to discreetly pull Viktor towards the door, “No. I disappeared because I was grieving.”

“Oh…” The room falls into a deafening silence.

“We’ll call you when we’re available to tell you about what happened,” Viktor tells them as he and Yuuri leave the room.

Before the doors close, he can hear Chris comment, “Guess we’ll never find out.”

They get stopped by other associates as they leave the building, each congratulating Viktor on cheating death and for making it back. A crowd soon forms, and they have to push their way through strangers to make it out to their car.

“Hey Yuuri?” Viktor says on the drive home.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too Vitya.”

* * *

Years later, when they’ve retired and adopted a big brown poodle named Makkachin, Yuuri looks on fondly as his husband plays tug-of-war with the puppy. He fiddles with the locket around his neck, thinking back to the worst months of his life, and thanks everything that will listen to him for returning his husband. Viktor is the best thing to happen to him, 

“Yuuri!” His husband calls, laughter filling the air, “Can you get my phone? I want to record this!”

Makkachin jumps all over him, trying to get the rope toy Viktor is holding above his head. Yuuri smiles, grabbing Viktor’s phone from the coffee table and recording the moment for him. 

_“I love you, Vitenka.”_

He wouldn’t trade this life for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I would like to thank my best friend for writing the smut in this, she did yet another great job. This is the first smutty thingy we've done outside of LYFY, and it certainly won't be the last. I did edit it a little, so I may post the original as another part of the series but in Viktor's POV. This is honestly one of my favorite tropes and since the Murder Husband's series is a thing, I just had to include it. I think it's my longest single work yet lmao. I would love to hear your feedback and any other tropes for spies/assassins/military au's that you would like to see in this series! Thank you all so much for reading 💞💞💞💞


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